Chapter 5: Making Soldiers Out of Slackers

As expected, as soon as the move south is mentioned in session, most Cabinet members object, almost resigning to show loyalty. Some agree, but not many. Pointing at the pile of memos on his desk, John sneers: “Look, all against moving.”

I shrug: “Mr. President is wise.”

Now I’m just slacking off. No money, no motivation. Just swore an oath with me, and then emptied my family, not leaving a penny. My dad is now obsessed with regaining the three million, fired all the housekeepers, and the family eats oatmeal three times a day. A senator’s house, living worse than janitors. If I didn’t have special permission to enter the White House and mooch meals from my First Lady sister, I’d lose three pounds a day. Now I’m reduced to fighting my niece for Pop-Tarts.

The house felt like the set of a Great Depression documentary—Dad huddled over the heating vent, rationing sugar packets like they were gold. Even the family dog looked skinnier. I found myself hoarding ketchup packets, a little piece of American survival.

[Damn, not even a coin left. How can a leader so stingy inspire loyalty?]

John coughs, blushing: “With Cabinet so opposed, even if I decide to move, it’ll be hard to take them.”

I respond indifferently.

[Still thinking of taking the Cabinet? Naive. When the populists besieged DC, the city fell in three days—why? Because the politicians and aides you wanted to take opened the gates.]

[Forget it. Go to Dallas and form a new, obedient Cabinet.]

[Well, there are loyal ones, but hard to tell. Let me think... wait, I’m slacking off.]

John ponders, then nods, leaves the desk, pats my shoulder: “This is a last resort. As you said, the politicians and elites are restless, even with wealth, until the last moment, I won’t touch them.”

[So only us, the insiders, are easy to bully.]

John coughs again: “Now that you’re Deputy Director of Homeland Security, help me train a usable force. I’ll issue an order for you to act as needed; for funds, take what you need from the White House budget... I won’t treat you badly.”

[Using my money to train your troops—what an abacus. You should be a businessman.]

I’m noncommittal, just say I’ve been too hungry to train troops...

Before I finish, John interrupts: “When the time is right, I’ll...” lowering his voice, “confiscate the corrupt politicians’ property, and you’ll get a tenth as a reward.”

Now I’m awake.

“Really?”

“A President’s word is gold.”

A tenth—at least seven million.

I immediately change face, patting my chest: “Rest assured, Mr. President, I won’t fail, I’ll pick the best for America.”

[That’s right, want the horse to run, feed it grass.]

[The country is about to fall, forget face, just confiscate hard.]

[Brother-in-law, you’re finally acting like a real President.]

John’s face twitches, takes a few deep breaths, waves me off. Wow, his mood changes fast.

Counting the days, only about a hundred left before the populists attack. Time is tight. With the order, I take the badge as a command, and go to the DC National Guard to pick men.

Director Langley tries to trip me up, saying Homeland Security always recruits from old families. I slap him and tell him to get lost. When the populists come, he’ll surrender fastest. Later, I hear he tries to complain to the White House, but can’t even get in. Only gets a message from an aide: “Derek’s words are my words.”

Want to report me? Fine, I’ll confiscate your house first.

When picking men, the soldiers are reluctant. But I have money and power. Order hundreds to beat drums and announce: double pay, paid in full! Volunteers swarm in. Once selected, at least they’ll be Homeland Security black-suited agents. Though Homeland Security isn’t what it was, it’s still not for just anyone.

I strictly screen, and after days, pick out a few thousand upright young men. Sigh, the capital can only produce this few; the army is so rotten, no wonder the country falls. With these new agents, I lead them to the gate of Senator Mason’s mansion—my house. A sea of black blocks the street.

“Let us live! I’m broke now! If you want to confiscate more, step over my body!” My dad runs out, one foot bare.

Oh, he misunderstood. I quickly reassure him, saying these are my men, just borrowing the place for training. He relaxes, then starts hitting me: “Why not train at the barracks? We’re too poor to feed thousands!”

I shield my face, pull him aside, whisper for a while. Hearing the President would pay, and we’d get some perks, he calms down. When told if the training goes well, the confiscated property would be returned, his smile reaches his ears.

“Worthy son of the Mason family, I’ll move out, you train well!”

He moves quickly. Neighbors, seeing my troops and the order, also move. With the mansion as center, we connect yards, making a huge training ground. Next day, the neighbors jointly file complaints. Who near me isn’t a politician?

John ignores it, promising to return the houses later and compensate them. Ha, I’m delighted. John has learned to make empty promises. Teachable.

The mansion’s tennis court turned into a makeshift parade ground, and even the neighbors’ golden retrievers watched from behind the hedges.